all flesh rots

at the end of august, monaco is hit with seven days of rain. it starts as a normal storm, then just keeps going, day after day, until the whole town seems waterlogged. the streets shine beneath the streetlights, neon signs flicker through the rain, and the inferno network hums through the static in the background. by the third day, people have started gathering under awnings and in doorways, mostly just waiting for it to pass. that is when the bride walks into town. she is wearing a neat honeymoon dress, completely soaked through, with her veil stuck to her hair. she has no luggage and doesn’t seem to be looking for anyone. she doesn’t speak to anyone either. she just crosses the flooded street and heads toward alyssum court, the old building everyone in monaco knows better than to ask too many questions about. its hallway lights flicker even when the power is fine, and the residents have always complained about strange noises coming from empty rooms. people watch her go. some swear the rain seemed to move around her. others say they recognized her, although nobody can agree from where. by the time she reaches the courtyard, the rain is coming down hard enough to drown out her footsteps. she moves into one of the houses on the court, and the door closes behind her. she moves into a house on the court.

nobody in monaco can agree on what happens next. some people say she arrived on the third day of the storm. others swear they saw her before that. a few residents claim they have seen her around alyssum court for years, although there is no record of her living there. there is no name, no wedding announcement, no photograph, nothing that explains who she is or where she came from. it should be easy to write her off as another strange person passing through monaco, but something about her has left people uneasy. since she arrived, alyssum court has gone strangely quiet. the usual footsteps in the halls have stopped. the pipes don’t knock at night anymore. even the inferno network seems different, its signal cutting out more often after midnight. nobody knows what the rain brought with it, or why it brought her here. in monaco, people have learned not to chase answers too hard. sometimes the truth disappears before you can get close enough to touch it.